


Ounces and Pounds

by raven_aorla



Series: Made to Measure [1]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Gotham (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Crossover, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, If you only know one of these guys np, Implied Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 07:07:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10634802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_aorla/pseuds/raven_aorla
Summary: They haven't seen each other since they were kids, yet they grew up very similar.Spencer Reid (awkward genius who catches killers) visits Edward Nygma (awkward genius who has become a killer) in Arkham.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [irisbleufic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/gifts).



> With thanks to irisbleufic for interesting me in Mr. Nygma, and spurring me to haphazardly consume a bunch of canon and fanon until my need for this crossover became overpowering. Especially since Reid's actor, Matthew Gray Gubler, also voiced the Riddler in "Assault on Arkham". 
> 
> Somehow, these two are close in age. Please ignore the lack of sense this makes.

The young man couldn’t have been more than thirty. Brown hair, gangly, pale. He wore a gray striped sweater-vest and purple tie, chunky glasses, and carried a messenger bag. He cleared his throat. “Detective Gordon, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid from the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. I made an appointment before I flew out from Quantico.”

“Yes, I remember. Take a seat. I hadn’t heard the FBI was moving in. It’ll be a tough sell around here.” Including all the cops who would laugh in this guy’s face. Jim had been skeptical himself before getting confirmation of all Reid’s credentials.

Reid sat and immediately took a folder out of his bag, placing it on the desk. “This isn’t official FBI business, though I’m here with their approval. You recently led the arrest of Edward Nygma, correct?”

“Yes.” Jim seriously hoped this babyfaced Fed wasn’t going to lecture him about it. The story was painful enough as it was. 

“I’ve made an appointment to visit him in Arkham tomorrow, but I want to talk to you about your observations of Nygma as a coworker. I’m would like to be prepared as possible.” Reid took a photograph out of the folder and slid it towards Jim. “This is him at age eleven and me at age eight. He’s the son of one of my mother’s cousins. He came to visit once. Anyway, we wrote each other for four years, then I went to college and he went through a...difficult time...and we lost track of each other.”

“You went to college when you were twelve?” It would explain him being both a "Dr." and an FBI agent so young.

“I started attending lectures part-time before that, strictly speaking.”

“Right.” Both the boys in the picture had such big glasses on such frail-looking bodies, and such dorky smiles, that Jim wouldn’t be surprised if a stalking bully had been cropped out of frame. 

Reid heard the disbelief in his voice. “You can clearly see our irises in the picture, with crisp resolution. Examine them with a magnifying glass, and you’ll see they’re the same as mine and any image you have of his, as adults. That’s why I chose this one. We’re looking straight at the camera. Did you know that irises are even more reliable than fingerprints for identification? Not only are they unique and, unlike fingerprints, easily visible from a greater distance, but the ‘mirror’ form of identical twins can have the same fingerprints, and the fingerprints of koalas are close enough in appearance to human ones that even the trained eye could confuse them. There is a genetic condition that results in having no fingerprints at all, from birth, which for a law-abiding citizen is a bureaucratic nightmare that also makes it difficult to turn pages while reading, or to pick up coins. Add to that the fact that fingerprints can be burned off much more -”

Jim held up a hand. “Okay. You’re related to him. I believe you. What does the Behavioral Analysis Unit do exactly?”

“We build psychological profiles based on the actions of unidentified subjects who have committed serial murders, in order assist local law enforcement in finding and stopping them. Gotham has never called upon the BAU for assistance, according to the records I went through.” 

“Not sure Gotham wants outsiders in our business,” Jim said, but without any anger to it. More like weariness. 

Reid took back the picture, slipping it into its hiding place again. “I’m not here to undermine your authority or question your actions. I appreciate your work. I’d appreciate any insights into Edward that you could give me. I don’t need to know who did what he did. I’d like a better idea of _why_.”

 

***

The next day, Spencer was sitting in a nearly bare room, placing gifts on the metal table. He’d been searched on the way in, and the items had passed muster. Both he and Ed would be searched on the way out. There was a panic button to press if his cousin tried to strangle him or something. Spencer doubted he would.

Spencer believed Ed felt remorse for killing Kringle, in a way that he hadn’t for his other victims, given the report that he’d greeted her body almost apologetically as he was about to move it. Spencer also believed that the woman’s ex-boyfriend had abused her, and he believed that someone more charismatic and popular among their peers hurting the woman Ed had feelings for, and while most likely belittling him too, had been the stressor.

Then there was his hesitation to kill Jim Gordon instantly, posing a riddle for him to solve first. Gordon had sounded regretful at the way many of them had brushed Ed aside and put him down, suggesting that he might have been kinder to Ed than others had. And then there was strange friendship(?) he had with the one other visitor Garcia had helped Spencer to dig up records of him receiving. This all gave him reason to believe that Ed was still capable of attachment. 

Ed was marched in and the rules told to him. His face was blank until the guards left. The black and white stripes of his clothes sucked all the color out of his face. Then he made eye contact with Spencer and raised his eyebrows. “What begins with a heroic tale, and ends with what you need to do enjoy it?

“Hello, Ed. Sorry it’s been so long. And the answer is...” He pointed at himself. Spencer Reid, the son of a medieval literature professor who loved Spenser’s Fairie Queene. 

This drew a slight smile from Ed. It had always cheered him up when someone went along with his games. “I’ve looked you up sometimes, when your cases made the papers. You don’t always wear glasses these days. Are you trying to match me today? Make me feel like we’re best buds again?”

“It was worth a shot.” Spencer pointed at his offerings. “This is a book of cryptic crossword puzzles. The clues are written in symbols you’ll have to figure out before you’ll be able to read the allusive, wordplay-based clues themselves. This is four boxes of Thin Mints in a larger plain box to reduce their chances of being stolen. The seals are all unbroken. This is a Rubic’s dodecahedron. You’ll solve it quickly, but I remember you finding solving and resolving the cube to be soothing, and this is at least more complex. And this is an eye mask, in case there are lights left on all night.“ Mom had complained about that aspect of temporary in-patient stays throughout much of her life. Her room at the sanitarium let her control the lights. Spencer had checked.

“How sweet of you. Not as sweet as _getting me out of here_ , but it’s a lovely gesture” Ed gathered the gifts to his side of the table. The Ed he remembered did not have that sardonic edge to his words, at least not to Spencer. How much weight did their handful of days together during a single summer still hold with him? 

“I’m sorry I stopped writing you letters,” Spencer said, sincerely. Bad things happened to Ed when tried to contact extended family in any other way. Young Spencer had some idea of the life his cousin - so similar to him in many ways, a perfect friend - was living, but by the time he was old enough to have done much about it, Ed was already grown up.

Ed waved dismissively. “I’m not sure which of us did the stopping. And if it was you, you were busy going to college while going through puberty and getting ready to lock Aunt Diana up ‘for her own good’.”

Spencer showed enough hurt so that Ed wouldn’t assume he didn’t care, but not enough to reward him much for the jab. “I took care of her myself as long as I could.”

Ed propped up his chin in his hands. “Fine. Maybe. You can understand why I’m touchy. If you say something like, ‘but you were such a nice boy’, I will absolutely hurt you, no matter the consequences.’”

“You feel like being nice lead to you being poorly treated.”

“Don’t do your profiling on me, Spence. If that what’s your here for, to advance FBI knowledge of your insaaaane relative,” Ed made the standard ‘crazy’ hand gesture, “I’m not cooperating.”

“I really just wanted to see you. I haven't told anyone about your past, other than how I know you.”

Ed narrowed his eyes and lapsed into silence for about twenty seconds. Then he said, “Did you know that for centuries in England, you could pay money to the insane asylums for permission to watch the inmates, like a zoo? Or sometimes beat them yourself?”

“I did. Did you know that Elizabeth Cochrane, penname Nellie Bly, the founder of modern investigative journalism, spent ten days undercover in ‘madhouse’ in order to expose the cruelty of 1900s mental healthcare?”

“No. Did you know that in some cultures, epileptics are, or were, viewed as prophets?”

“No. Did you know that I looked up to you?”

Ed groaned. “Yes. Did you know that I know that you were abducted and tortured by a serial killer with multiple personality disorder?”

“No.”

“You killed him.”

“Yes. Did you know that I wish I could have saved him?” Just saying the words made Spencer ache. Hotch, in particular, had looked very worried that one time Spencer accidentally made a reference to the name of the original personality who was a victim himself. Tobias had deserved better.

“It’s not surprising. I read the news, and your team seemed desperate to get you back. Must have been nice.”

“I read that you excelled in forensics...” Spencer said cautiously.

Ed looked off to the side instead of at Spencer, this time. “You were nice to me. I know that. I was nice to people. Your niceness got you people who genuinely like you. It’s not like you’re better than me, so how does that work? Great, now I’ve said ‘nice’ so many times it doesn’t sound real, which is quite a good metaphor by the way.”

“What can mean beauty, and what can mean duty, but can’t ever be counted upon?” Spencer asked, doing the best he could on short notice.

Two blinks, then Ed said, “Fairness.”

“Yes. I don’t consider myself better than you in terms of more capable or maybe even more smart - I believe our IQ is similar, right? You don’t have the eidetic memory or same number of degrees, but you’re better at making and executing elaborate plans.” 

Throughout their years of connection, Ed been politely but obviously jealous that at least Spencer’s mother always showed affection when lucid, and often when she wasn’t. He’d been consistently fond of Spencer during the visit, they stayed up all night talking about things like primordial soup and the origins of life, and also about things like what they’d do with a million dollars (Invest and win big in Texas Hold-Em, and buy every video game on the market, respectively). Ed helped Spencer practice magic tricks, and tried to teach him origami. They almost finished making a small robot, but were forced to return the neighbor’s power tools. Spencer had never really enjoyed playing with another kid before.

Spencer eventually became better at making friends, relatively speaking. He gathered that this was less the case for Ed. The other members of the GCPD had always respected Ed’s results and once thought of Edward Nygma as amiable and harmless, but also as “creepy” and “annoying” and “bizarre”. The same things Ed had been hearing his whole life. Spencer’s first guess was that eventually, Ed had chosen to embrace the latter and expand upon them, and to stop trying to be anything else.

“Does your team know when your birthday is?”

Spencer nodded.

“Have they ever done anything about it?”

Telling him that Spencer had felt flustered by that one surprise party would not help things. “It’s not always smooth sailing, I promise.”

“Go away.”

“Ed…”

“Go away, Dr. Spencer Reid. I still like you a tiny bit. Don’t squander that goodwill.”

“Do you care at all what we are to each other?” Spencer didn’t want to go. He wasn’t sure if he could accomplish anything, but to leave this twisted mirror of himself so soon -

“You’re a chivalrous reader of criminal minds. I’m your E. Nygma. Don’t try to crack me. Don’t try to read me. This is not the cousin you are looking for. Second cousin. Kissing cousin, except ew, no.” 

“I can’t overturn your sentence, but I can work to get you moved to someplace better than here.” Spencer though of all the UnSubs he’d talked down, promising them that he could help them. He wondered how many times it had been a lie.

“Oh, ooh, I have a better idea. What about this? When your mom’s schizophrenia, my worldview that you secretly agree with, allllll those little cuts you get each day in your pure little heart when you stare into the abyss of what humanity really is, and best of all your angsty savior complex all finally kick in, why don’t you invite me to wherever _you_ get locked up, Spencey? Then we’ll hang out and you can teach me sleight-of hand with teeth. Adult teeth this time, not your old baby teeth. I’ll teach you how to make a body disappear! It’ll be great. See you then.” Ed waved a childish bye-bye.

 

***

Hotch met Reid in the elevator on his first day back. “How did it go?”

“I’d rather not discuss it. Thanks for the time off.”

“Family emergencies are important, Reid, and you deserve all the time you need to deal with things.” Hotch didn’t quite smile, but he looked stoic in a more nurturing manner.

“Thanks.” Reid tried not to think about how things might have been different if Ed had..or if he had...or…

“Gotham wasn’t so awth-ome, huh?” asked a female voice.

Reid paused in his slump past Garcia’s office. “Thanks for your help. I just need to…”

“Do you want a hug?”

“Sure.” He stood still and let her envelop him.

JJ approached them. ”Can I join the hug?”

Garcia hummed approvingly, then declared, “Chocolate Adonis, where are you? This hug needs some big guns.”

Reid squeaked as the hug-ball grew larger. Prentiss appeared out of nowhere, and might have taken a picture before joining. “Whatever happened, we’ve got your back, Pretty Boy,” Morgan said, then he reached into the cluster to ruffle Reid’s hair.

A drowsy Rossi wandered by, espresso in hand. “What are you kids doing?”

“We’re preventing Reid from becoming an evil supervillain,” Garcia told him.

**Author's Note:**

> An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. - Old saying
> 
> I have a novel out:  
> [ Available in ebook and print form on Amazon](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07DSLT3D2/ref=mp_s_a_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1529183871&sr=8-2&pi=AC_SX236_SY340_FMwebp_QL65&keywords=Donaya+Haymond&dpPl=1&dpID=51cFXjiasBL&ref=plSrch), and in [print from the Barnes & Noble site.](https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/seasons-turning-donaya-haymond/1129067787?ean=9780999202654)


End file.
